In honor of Schiller—the author of, among other things, a poem called An die Freude that had quite an effect on Ludwig van Beethoven—here is the opening stanza of A Funeral Fantasy (in German, Eine Leichenphantasie), in a 19th-century translation by Edgar A. Bowring:

Lo! on high the moon, her lustre dead,O'er the death-like grove uplifts her head,Sighing flits the spectre through the gloom--Misty clouds are shivering,Pallid stars are quivering,Looking down, like lamps within a tomb.Spirit-like, all silent, pale, and wan,Marshall'd in procession dark and sad,To the sepulchre a crowd moves on,In the grave-night's dismal emblems clad.